When He Desires: A Dark Mafia Romance (Fallen God Book 1)
When He Desires: Chapter 9

Outside, the snow’s coming down thick, and there’s about an inch already on the ground. Blake and I leave footprints behind us as we walk toward my truck. Mine are twice the size of hers.

She keeps shooting me looks, like she’s unsure of what to make of me.

Good, because I’ve got no idea what to make of her either.

Since I moved in next door, she’s been popping randomly into my head multiple times a day.

I’ve got no idea why.

I mean, yeah, I’m a bit intrigued by her and I think she’s beautiful, but so what? Some men like a challenge. I’m not one of them. I’ve always embraced the philosophy of working smarter, not harder.

Why expend my energy chasing after women who don’t seem interested in me when I can easily replace one who is?

Especially in Darkwater Hollow. Sometimes, all I have to do is breathe in their direction, and they start panting.

But not Blake.

Why the hell not? What is it that she doesn’t like?

My looks can’t be the problem, so it must be my personality, but how can it be my personality if she doesn’t even know me?

No, it must be my reputation that’s got her panties in a knot. She alluded to it last time. Why does she care about how and who I spend my time with? It just doesn’t make sense.

There’s some stubborn part of me that wants to figure that shit out and see if I can change her mind.

You promised Sandro to take it easy, remember?

Right.

When we get inside the truck, Blake clears her throat. “Thanks. You really came to my rescue back there.”

“No problem. It’s not like it’s out of my way.”

Did I think she’d be at Frostbite when I decided to come here in the middle of a fucking snowstorm? I may have suspected it given her car wasn’t in her driveway.

But I didn’t come here for her. That would be ridiculous. And I hadn’t intended on offering her a ride home until I saw her boss.

I didn’t like his face, or his voice, or anything about him. I sure as fuck didn’t like the way he looked at her like he owned her. And when he kept insisting on driving her when she clearly wanted nothing to do with him, I had no choice but to intervene.

I turn on the ignition. “I like to do the occasional good deed to make up for my many sins. Something tells me you’re keeping a list of them.”

“Why would you say that?”

“You seem determined not to like me. The problem is I’m a pretty likable guy.” A smirk tugs on my lips. “You making a list of all of my perceived wrongs would help keep you on track.”

She lets out an annoyed sigh. “You’re right. This interaction alone is giving me ideas for a few bullet points.”

I chuckle and glance over at her. She hasn’t buckled up. “Are you ready to go or…”

She arches a brow, oblivious to the fact. “Yes. Why?”

I sigh, undo my belt, and reach across her. “I know women tend to get flustered around me, but please try to keep your head on straight. We’re about to drive in dangerous conditions.” I grasp the belt buckle suspended by her head and draw it toward me, my knuckles accidentally brushing over the tip of her breast in the process.

She sucks in a breath.

I ignore the electric jolt to my groin and slide her buckle in with a sharp click. “There.”

Her eyes lock on mine, and some color spreads over her cheeks.

So she’s not totally immune to me.

Oh, I could do it. I could have this prickly bartender under me in less than a week if I wanted to.

I smirk and pull away to clip my own belt back in.

She clears her throat. “If you were looking for an excuse to cop a feel, you could have gone for something a bit more subtle.”

My smirk melts right off. Heat prickles across the back of my neck.

“That’s not what—“

“And for your information, I’m perfectly capable of putting on my own seat belt.”

This snarky little…

“Then you should have done it instead of just sitting there,” I mutter.

She scoffs a laugh.

I roll my shoulders back, dust off my slightly bruised ego, and start to pull out of the lot.

The snow’s nasty—soft and slippery—so I’m going to have to be careful.

“Your boss is an asshole, by the way,” I say as I turn onto the road.

“I’m aware.”

“He always been like that?”

She lets out a low breath. It makes me glance at her. She’s biting down on the corner of her full bottom lip.

Why am I looking at her lips instead of the road?

Jesus. Fuck. I need to get it together.

“You probably know he’s my ex? Things between us are tense at the moment.”

That guy is her ex? “I didn’t know that.”

“Really? And here I was thinking it was hot gossip.”

I tap against my earlobe. “In one ear, out another. I don’t give a fuck about other people’s lives.”

“Then you’re an anomaly in this town. Most people here can’t help but stick their noses into other people’s business. Anyway, he cheated on me with the other bartender who was working tonight.”

Oh. Oh.

Okay. I’m starting to get it. She probably thinks I’m like her ex—a cheater—hence the immediate dislike. She’s wrong though. I don’t cheat. I make it very clear I’m not interested in anything serious, that I’m not looking for commitment.

But it feels like right now is not the time to clarify that.

She sounds too casual, like she’s making an effort not to let on how much that fucker really hurt her.

“When did this happen?”

“Four, nearly five months ago.” She brushes a speck of dust off the dashboard. “He says he wants to get back together, but I don’t think he knows what he wants.”

The thought of Blake being with that asshole does something unpleasant to my insides.

I turn the windshield wipers on. They struggle to keep up with the rapidly building snow. “Why wouldn’t he fire her if he wants to fix things between you two?”

“He offered. I told him not to.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Not a lot of other jobs in Darkwater Hollow.”

“So you’re worried about the job prospects of a woman who fucked your boyfriend?”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “I don’t like sending bad juju out into the world, okay? I treat people how I want to be treated. I know that might be a foreign concept to you.”

“Ouch.”

A beat passes. “Sorry, that was rude.”

“I’m seriously regretting driving you.”

“I can get out at the next light.” She reaches for her seat belt, like she’s really going to do it.

“Relax, I was kidding. It would take a lot more than that to make me regret bringing a woman home.”

She clicks her tongue. “Do you have to say it like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re— Ugh, forget it.”

I laugh. “Get your head out of the gutter, Sunshine.”

Her fists clench in her lap. “Don’t call me that.”

I ignore her protest because the nickname is growing on me, and she’d better just get used to it.

“Okay, so the ex cheated on you, you don’t want the other waitress gone, and you’re still there because of the same lack of job prospects?”

She blows out an irritated breath. “I thought you said you didn’t care about other people’s lives?”

I shrug. “I don’t. But we’ve got a long drive ahead of us, so we might as well pass the time. This is more melodramatic than those telenovelas my nonna loved to watch.”

“Nonna? Is that Italian?”

“Born and raised in Sicily.”

“I never had a grandma,” she muses. “What was she like?”

“Strict. She swore a lot. And she made the best fucking chicken cacciatore you can imagine.”

“Oh yeah?”

A grin pulls on my lips at the memory. “When I was a kid, about nine or ten, she’d have me, my mom, and my stepdad over for dinner every Saturday. There were usually just four of us, but she’d make enough food to feed an army. There was nothing that woman was more afraid of than running out of food for her guests.”

The memory is bittersweet because they’re all gone now. Nonna died in her sleep ten years ago at the ripe old age of eighty-five, and my mom and stepdad went the way most do in my old world.

A territory war. Drive-by shooting. They were having lunch at their favorite restaurant in Jersey.

“So it’s just you?” Blake asks as we get on a ramp to the highway. “No siblings?”

“I’m an only child.”

“I could have guessed. You have that kind of energy.”

“I’m going to pretend that’s a compliment. What about you?”

“I’ve got a brother. He doesn’t live here anymore.”

“Where did he go?”

“California. LA. He’s a chef at some fancy restaurant. I haven’t seen him since he left home at eighteen.”

“Is he older or younger?”

“Two years older.”

“And you never had the urge to leave this place?”

“Would if I could.” She sniffs and doesn’t elaborate.

I almost ask, but then I remember I’m not supposed to get involved. Just by looking at this girl, I know she’s got a sob story, and I don’t need to hear it.

The world outside the car is a blur of white and gray, the snowflakes swirling in a frenzied dance. The road markings are impossible to see. I adjust my grip on the steering wheel, and in my periphery, I can see her looking at the tattoos on the backs of my hands.

“What’s up with all the tattoos?”

“I like body art. Most women like them too, but let me guess, not you.”

“Why would you say that?”

“You seem to be determined not to like anything about me.”

“Does that bother you?”

“Not one bit.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re lying. What does that one mean?” She points at my right hand.

“La mia rotta è fissata per un mare inesplorato. My course is set for an uncharted sea. It’s a quote from Dante.“

She gasps. “You’re literate?”

“I know. Shocking.”

She laughs, and warmth spreads through my chest at the sound. Ahead of us, a few cars crawl at a snail’s pace, their taillights peeking through the falling snow.

“I don’t think Darkwater Hollow qualifies as unchartered sea. Where were you before this?”

“New York. I—“

Fuck.

I wasn’t supposed to say that. Our story is that we came here from Vegas.

I slipped.

That’s never happened until now.

Blake turns to me. “New York? Why did you leave?”

There’s nothing left to do but backtrack and hope she forgets I ever brought it up. “I wasn’t there for long. Before that, I was in Vegas. Sam, my business partner, and I worked at a construction company, but we both got tired of that place. So we decided to move somewhere quieter and start our own thing.”

We turn off the highway, and that’s when the car starts to slide.